Rabid Heart

by Jeremy Wagner

  As they made their kitchen exit, there was a sudden slam against the Maintenance door, followed by intense pounding and high-pitched screams... then Cujo hisses and the pitter-patter of little feet in the stairwell.

  “Just keep walking.” Rhonda painfully led them on.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Once free of the hotel, they moved a few doors down until they reached the BP gas mart. Rhonda rested on a curb at the station’s main entrance. Her leg alarmed her. It bled and throbbed with new intensity. She’d need to remove the damn knife before she tried to ascend the exit ramp. The highway seemed so far away. She’d just wait awhile. Get her strength and wits back.

  And Brad? What had happened to him?

  Please be alive. Dead alive... at least undead and okay.

  Rhonda felt ill. What if Brad was unharmed, but now wandered Cujoland alone?

  Rhonda sat with the kids long enough to watch Ruthie’s Inn turn into an inferno and took a small amount of satisfaction in knowing she’d delivered as promised to those abhorrent sickos. Roy, however, remained unaccounted for.

  One problem. She needed to get a jump on Roy before he spotted her and the kids. Any element of surprise posed a challenge while Ruthie’s Inn blazed hot and bright in the fall night. What if he now had her M4 and ammo? If this insane fire hadn’t already gotten Roy’s attention and drawn him into action, it would no doubt draw every undead in a five-mile radius.

  Against her better judgment, indeed against her desire to get moving as soon as possible, Rhonda needed to tend to her wound, and she needed the kids’ help. “Tyler and Ellen. Go into the station and get me some paper towels, rubbing alcohol... anything that looks like first aid stuff. Do it fast, please.”

  The kids nodded and left her.

  Rhonda hated to ask Tyler and Ellen to enter a dark and abandoned gas station by themselves, but she needed to stop moving before she did irreparable damage to her leg. Her leg had better heal quickly. Being helpless got old really fast.

  You out there watching us, Roy? She stared at the ramp and the darkness beyond with her .45 in hand as she waited for the kids.

  The kids returned within minutes, their arms full of bagged goods. They spread their discoveries next to Rhonda and she sorted through it.

  Rhonda rummaged through the bags and there was more than she hoped for; scissors, gauze, rubbing alcohol, bottled water and some Band Aids that were going to be too small to help. No matter, the kids had done great. She forced herself to stand on her left leg and spoke to Tyler. “I need you to take those scissors and cut my right pant leg all the way up the side seam here. Then cut the pant leg off. Think you can do that?”

  “Off?” Tyler’s eyes grew wide. In the bright light cast from the hotel fire, he looked one part scared and one part embarrassed.

  No doubt he was shy about cutting off the pant leg of some strange lady. Well, she couldn’t fault him for it. “It’s no big deal, Ty. Can I call you Ty?”

  Tyler nodded and stared at the knife handle protruding from Rhonda’s leg.

  “Cool. Now, I need you to cut the pant leg off so I can have a clean area around that fucking... I mean, stupid knife.”

  Rhonda tried to control her language. When was the last time she hung out around kids, anyway? Probably when she last babysat at age 16. Bad language didn’t matter much in this new nightmare world, but it wouldn’t hurt her to show some politeness. It was one of their last connections to the old world they’d known, when good people existed. People who possessed etiquette, who didn’t prey on other people for food or sexual debasement.

  Maybe there are still good people out here. Somewhere.

  “When you get that pant leg off, I’m going to pull the knife out.” Rhonda gestured with her hands. “Blood’s gonna pour out and I need you both to get those paper towels ready with the gauze and water. Cool?”

  “I’m not scared of blood.” Ellen stepped closer to Rhonda. She held a roll of paper towels under her small left arm and a wad of them in her petite right fist. “We’ve seen lots of blood and stuff.”

  Rhonda was chilled, but smiled for the girl. “Cool, Ellen. Thanks for being so strong.”

  Ellen shrugged, her expression deadpan.

  “Okay, Ty. Let’s go.” Rhonda extended her right leg with painful determination and gave Tyler some space to work. She swallowed, nauseated as she wondered what Randy, Patty and Roy might’ve used the filthy knife for.

  Rhonda watched Tyler squat and hesitate before finally scissor-cutting her military pants from the hem up the front of the pant leg, around the knife, and stopping just below her pants pocket. He looked into her face. “Is that okay?”

  “Yeah.” Rhonda could see her bare skin as the pant leg parted. “Snip the rest of the pant leg off. Careful though, Ty. I don’t want you to cut all my pants off and leave me with only my undies.”

  Ellen giggled as Tyler’s cheeks flushed Mars red, highlighted by firelight.

  Rhonda snickered. “Keep goin’, Ty. You’re doing great.”

  In seconds, he cut off Rhonda’s blood-soaked pant leg and dropped it to the curb.

  “Good goin’.” Rhonda felt odd in her half pants. She focused on the knife handle jutting out of her leg. “You guys ready? I need those paper towels quick.”

  “Yep.” Tyler stood close with bandages and bottled water in his hands.

  “Okay.” Ellen stood with her paper towels and appeared anxious to absorb blood.

  “Here goes.” God help me. Rhonda gritted her teeth and grasped the knife handle. She psyched herself up. “This is gonna be nasty.”

  Rhonda was far more scared than she sounded. She’d never dealt with a major stab wound before. Where was Doc Brightmore when she needed him?

  Rhonda braced herself where she sat and withdrew the knife with a steady and clean pull. There was a sickening wet sound, and then a spray of red arced from her unplugged wound into night air. She ripped paper towels from Ellen’s hands and pressed them into her bloody wound. They were quickly saturated with blood. Crimson fluid oozed up and in between her fingers.

  “Ty. Pour that water on the wound when I take these towels off.” Rhonda lowered her tone; she didn’t want to bark orders at these young soldiers. Just like Daddy. She turned to Ellen. “Sweetie, after Ty dumps that stuff on my wound, I need you to put a bunch of those paper towels on it and press down as hard as you can. It’s gonna be messy. Sorry.”

  “Direct pressure, right?”

  Rhonda half-smiled. “Yes. Very good, sweetie. I’m gonna use that pant leg you cut off. Make a tourniquet out of it.” Rhonda prepared to remove her bloody hands and towels. “Ready?”

  Tyler and Ellen both nodded and replied, “Yes.”

  Rhonda counted to three and both kids clumsily aided her. Ty dumped the contents of the water bottle on Rhonda’s wound and all over her other leg. For a moment, both wound and leg washed clean. Rhonda poured rubbing alcohol on it and had to stifle a scream. Rhonda’s gash bubbled away. Ellen slammed fresh paper towels on the wound. The young girl’s force and pressure surprised Rhonda.

  “I feel your blood coming through.” Ellen spoke without worry in her voice.

  Rhonda watched paper towels absorb her fresh blood and rise between Ellen’s small white fingers. “Okay, guys, just hold tight for a moment while I catch my breath.”

  Rhonda didn’t feel nighttime cold as Ruthie’s Inn burned and gave off tremendous heat, despite being a good distance away.

  “Ellen, you’re doing great.” Rhonda readied her pant leg tourniquet and squeezed blood out of it. “When I tell you, pull your hands and the paper towels away. Ty, give me a bandage and gauze. When Ellen takes her hands away, I’ll slap the bandage on and wrap it all up. Go.”

  Ellen pulled away her small, blood-covered hands and bloody towels. Rhonda watched fresh blood once more spurt from the wound. She pressed a bandage on her cut then wrapped it with gauze. She tied it all tight with her severed pant leg.

  “There.”
Rhonda finished off her tourniquet and released a heavy exhalation. She felt dizzy. She looked at both kids. “You guys rock. Y’know that? You did real good. Can you help me up?”

  “Wait a sec, lady.” Tyler raised an index finger and jogged toward the BP mini-mart.

  “Where ya goin’? By the way, my name’s Rhonda.”

  “Gonna get you somethin’.” Tyler grinned. “Rhonda.”

  Rhonda watched Tyler disappear inside. She turned to Ellen. “How you doin’, sweetie?”

  Ellen shrugged. “Rhonda’s a pretty name.”

  “Thank you. So’s Ellen.”

  The roof of Ruthie’s Inn collapsed with a crash. Rhonda flinched. The flames grew brighter and she felt the heat intensify. Christ, the entire place was burning so fast.

  “Can we leave now?” Ellen’s voice a pinch of fear. “Bad man Roy is gonna get us?”

  “No, sweetie.” Rhonda reached out and grasped one of Ellen’s blood-coated hands. She provided a smile full of reassurance, though she doubted Roy was ignoring the massive fire at his home. “Bad man Roy isn’t going to get anyone while I’m here. When your brother gets back here, we’re long gone from this joint.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rhonda smiled wider and gave Ellen’s hand a squeeze. Tyler returned with a large plastic bag full of goods, and what looked like a long stick.

  “Here ya go. This might help.” Tyler handed his mystery item to Rhonda.

  “A walking cane?” Rhonda grabbed it awkwardly. It looked like a golf club.

  “Yeah.” Tyler’s dirty face beamed. “Found it next to a dead guy behind the counter.”

  “Thanks... Ty.” I think? Rhonda turned it in her hands. It looked much like a cane her grandpa, Colonel Driscoll Sr., had once owned. She had to credit Tyler; the ugly thing might help keep her on her feet, and perhaps, even bash in a head or two.

  “I also grabbed all of the snacks and bottles of Vitamin Water I could carry.” Tyler shook a plastic bag at Rhonda.

  Rhonda smiled. “Were you in Boy Scouts?”

  “Sure was. Well, I was in Webelos. Y’know, Cub Scouts.”

  “Thought so.” Rhonda stood, using her new cane to rise and support her.

  “I wanna get in Junior Girl Scouts again.” Ellen looked sad. “Don’t think that’s gonna happen, though. Not with those things, what did you call them, Cujos? Everywhere. Cujos don’t like Girl Scout cookies.”

  “No. They’d rather just eat Girl Scouts.” Tyler spoke in a pseudo-scary voice.

  “Not funny, Tyler.” Ellen scowled at him. “I really liked being in Junior Girl Scouts. Mom and I...”

  To Rhonda’s shock, Ellen’s angry scowl suddenly vanished and she put her small blood-stained hands to her face and wept. Rhonda shot Tyler a look of disapproval, but when the boy’s eyes too, filled with tears, her features softened. Perhaps he felt sorry for what he said, or saddened for his sudden mention of their mother. Maybe both.

  “Hey guys.” Rhonda hobbled closer and embraced them with an uneasy balance. She paused. What could she possibly say to comfort them? She gave them a moment. “You’re in good hands now, okay?”

  Tyler gave a weak nod and wiped his eyes while Ellen shuddered with sobs.

  Rhonda stepped with uncomfortable effort, and with cane in hand, she limped over to the kids. She bent at her waist and tied a length of fresh gauze around Ellen’s shaky body.

  “There ya go, sweetie.” Rhonda smiled, and knotted the material across Ellen’s chest from shoulder to hip. “You have an official Girl Scout sash now.”

  Ellen took her hands from her face and looked at her new, makeshift sash. She touched it and sniffled, then looked at Rhonda with moist eyes. Her lip trembled. “I just need... need some merit emblems ’n stuff.”

  “We’ll work on that, Ellen. Your first emblem’s gonna be for first aid.” Rhonda hugged her and Ellen embraced in return. “Okay, let’s get.”

  They moved to the exit ramp as fire roared behind them. They stopped and turned around once, halfway up the exit ramp, to gaze on the hell below. Ruthie’s Inn and the BP station, and all the neighboring businesses were in flames.

  All those poor souls. How many unnamed people had been butchered, or worse, by Patty, Randy and Roy? She hoped every victim found rest in their cremation.

  Rhonda turned away from sights below and her own macabre thoughts. “C’mon. We gotta be quiet and careful while we walk.”

  Tyler and Ellen walked in silence on each side of her while she moved in slow, stiff, and painful strides. She didn’t like this. Was Roy watching them right now? Their silhouettes must stand out sharp and clear against the blaze of firelight behind them. She imagined Roy, waiting above in darkness, prepared to strike them all. Rhonda shivered and squeezed her .45 and cane tighter.

  Both kids walked a few steps ahead. “Hey, guys. Stop.” She motioned them to her. “Get behind me. We don’t know what’s up there.”

  The siblings’ dirty faces expressed fear. They obeyed and stepped behind her.

  Okay, just breathe deep and let it out slow. Calm the nerves.

  She limped to the top of the ramp and led her newfound kids into darkness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  On her way up the ramp, Rhonda spied the Volkswagen Passat-trap and passed it cautiously. Nothing jumped out and she continued hobbling up to I-95 with kids in tow. Damn, she could’ve used Tyler’s Maglite. Then again, a flashlight beam would give her away to Roy or any other predator out here.

  In the vast blackness of the night road, Rhonda spotted her Humvee’s boxy shape, parked right where she’d left it. She suddenly realized that she still had the keys in her remaining pants pocket. She raised her gun and limped with caution toward her vehicle. Her leg throbbed with sharp, achy pain, like someone had donkey-punched and shanked her at once. She felt wetness. Blood seeped through her bandages and trickled down her leg like warm honey.

  I ain’t got time to bleed.

  Rhonda drew closer to the Humvee as her eyes slowly adjusted to darkness. A series of explosions, like smothered burps, sounded from the road below. She ignored them. Brad’s door was wide open and a body lay on the road next to the open Humvee door.

  “Oh no. God no.” She told the kids to stay put. She ignored her damaged leg and shambled quickly toward the motionless corpse sprawled on the pavement.

  Near the open passenger door, Rhonda heard a sound from within. Was Roy rustling around back there? Scavenging for something useful after killing Brad? The idea enraged her.

  “You’re dead, asshole!” Rhonda whipped around the open door, prepared to blow the bastard’s head off. Instead, she found Brad. Still sitting quietly buckled in and patient.

  “Rrrrnnndaahh.”

  “What?” Rhonda exhaled steamy breath and lowered her gun to her side. She stared in disbelief at Brad. She’d been so certain he was dead. Dead-dead. With immense relief, she realized the body on the highway must belong to Roy.

  Rhonda knew Roy would have come up here to see who waited in her Humvee. She imagined him opening the passenger door to find Brad alone and complacent in his seat. Roy probably thought he hit the jackpot; finding a docile hunk of a Cujo just waiting to be turned into their new pet. But good ’ol Roy got too close and careless, and complacent Brad turned mean.

  Though relieved and impressed with how Brad had killed Roy, still seated, Rhonda almost wished Brad didn’t do the prick like this. Messy and gory... the Cujo way.

  What if he hurts the kids? Or if he turns on me?

  Rabid is rabid. She shunned any thought of Brad being a creature who might hunger for human flesh. Part of her knew her fiancé likely attacked and ate normal people before she found him in Levendale. He wasn’t acting rabid now, though. He only showed aggression when she was being menaced or if someone fucked with him, like poking at a mad dog.

  Get rolling, worry later. Keep the kids safe.

  Rhonda looked at Roy’s corpse at her feet. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and made ou
t Roy’s large mass: he rested, belly skyward in his dirty green coveralls. What was that smell? B.O. mixed with sharp odors of excrement and tinny blood nipped her nose.

  Roy’s ample gut rounded upward in darkness like a small hill. Rhonda didn’t want to look, but she did. She made out a wide and murky pool that collected on Roy’s chest and soaked through his coveralls. His fat neck had been torn wide open, a puddle of blood glistening where his trachea once resided. Above Roy’s ravaged neck, Rhonda noted his long beard was now gone, along with his chin and cheeks, lips and nose. She made out Roy’s eyes, open with a dead glint, but she couldn’t see blue or any other color in them.

  “Rrrrnnndaahh.”

  Rhonda closed her eyes. Could she feel any more exhausted or sore? Images of this day wore on her. Hearing Brad’s voice raised her spirits, but also brought new weight to everything. She had to look after Brad, and more importantly, she realized, these kids needed safety. On top of all this current shit, she knew one hell of a long drive remained in front of them.

  I’m tempted to go back to Fort Rocky.

  Rhonda wanted to cry, nothing felt right. Maybe sleep would help. If she could just rest, maybe, just maybe, she’d feel better about her place in the universe.

  “Rrrrnnndaahh.”

  “Yes, baby. I’m coming.”

  Rhonda opened her moist eyes and folded her arms tight to her breasts and turned from Roy’s corpse. She limped to Brad. Good God, his mouth and cheeks were smeared dark, like a child’s face after a messy battle with a Hershey bar. But this wasn’t chocolate on Brad’s mug.

  “Rrrrnnndaahh.”

  Brad cracked a Cujo grin and rocked in his buckled seat with excitement. Long strands of hair stuck to his lips. He reached blood-covered hands out to Rhonda, each one holding a fistful of blood-crusted beard whiskers.

  “Ughhh. Really, baby?”

  She stared at Brad’s polluted face. Shit, she had to clean him up before the kids saw him like this. Tyler and Ellen would flip when they found a Cujo in their car. No doubt about it. She couldn’t allow their first introduction to her fiancé to be a greeting from a gore-glazed monster. How could she get two traumatized kids feeling warm and fuzzy about her Cujo-fied fiancé? It felt freaking impossible.